Acknowledgment
by Chibimom
Summary: Christmas through Ian's eyes


Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Top Cow, WB, etc.  


This story is pre-Sara.  


I don't have a good grasp on tense. Please forgive glaring mistakes.

The Christmas season through Ian's eyes.  
  


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  
  
by Chibimom  
  


He knows Irons will be angry. Christmas is not celebrated at the mansion. But he spends his days traversing the city's bustling sidewalks, peering, childlike , into the department store windows at the scenes of manikin families caroling, attending parties, or just being together. These scenes are always attended by many beautifully wrapped packages adorning tinseled trees and hearths. He smiles as he explores each one. People pass him and acknowledge him with smiling "Merry Christmases and Happy New Years." He smiles back but cannot bring himself to utter the words.  


Bright glowing lights envelope stop signs, street signs, and trees. Especially trees. Swirling the strands of lights around the leafless branches and trunks, they look incongruous by day. But, at night they look like formless spires of enchantment and the outline of the city radiates warmth like an oasis far away.  


He also roams the city's back streets and dim alleys. There are no lights, there, no glittering window fronts, no tinseled trees. The people collected in those passages also acknowledge him and wish him "Happy Holidays."  


His humble earnings, saved throughout the year allow him to bring boxes and boxes of sandwiches, coffee, and hot chocolate on Christmas Eve. The shiny, black Mercedes seems vulgar as he passes boxes to cold hands and smiling faces out of its' vast trunk. But, he did not choose this vehicle for himself, much like everything else in his life.  


Tasteful lights and decorations abound on all of the estates here save one. The stone visage of his home seems even colder than the alleys he just left. He silently enters the house and treads up the back stairs, smiling as he fingers a small object in his pocket.  
  
"Would my Merry Elf please come to me," a voice softly calls from the great room.  
  
He closes his eyes and sighs before turning to retread his steps, taking care to push his smiles and happiness to the recesses of his mind. He anticipates punishment, but quietly follows the voice into the great room. The only warmth in this room was the raging fire in the large stone fireplace.  


He stood to the side of his master, hands clasped tightly behind his back and waited.  
  
"You went into the city tonight." Irons voice was even as he sipped his scotch.   


It was a statement, no reply was required. He continued to stare at the floor.  


"Tonight is Christmas Eve, which I'm sure has not escaped your attention. Your maudlin attitudes always cloud your sensibilities this time of year." Irons swirled his scotch. He was lounging comfortably in the high back chair wearing a pale blue turtleneck and dark slacks. His eyes danced with reflections from the fire.  
Again, no question, no response.  
  
Irons rose from the chair and turned to face him. He steels himself. A light touch raises his chin to look into his master's eyes.  
  
"Come," I've had Jorge prepare dinner and it is time to eat."  
  
Eyes down, he follows Irons into the informal dining room. The meal smells wonderful, but he won't be eating now. He eats later with the rest of the staff. He moves into his dark corner as his master sits. He fingers the object in his pocket and stares at the floor.   
  
"I expect my dinner guests to be punctual."  
  
He didn't know Irons was expecting guests. He would have been home sooner if he had.  


"Tonight's guest is my Merry Elf." Irons said softly.  


His brain reprocessed the words.  


"Master?" He stepped forward.  
  
"Look up and sit."  
  
The large table was covered with Jorge's best. Many were his favorites, but never shared at his master's table like this. An empty place setting had a brightly decorated place card and a box brightly wrapped with Christmas foil. His eyes opened as wide as was possible but couldn't devour the small spruce centerpiece and all the decorations.   
  
"Don't gape, sit." Irons grasped his gloved hand and squeezed lightly.  


Tears could not be stopped, no matter his training.   


"Open the box." Irons smiled.  


He tenderly fingered the package, savoring its touch; the crisp foil wrapping, the soft velvet bow.  
  
The unwrapping took five minutes, he did want to tear the paper or muss the bow. Irons was patient. He looked at the unmarked box for another few minutes before unfolding the top and lifting the tissue. A wide smile engulfed his face. Inside was a beautiful red cashmere sweater. He had never felt anything so soft. He desperately wanted to put it on but folded the sweater and placed it neatly back in the box.  
  
He blushed and quickly wiped the smile from his face, remembering where he was and who he was with.  


"Thank you sir. I do not deserve . . ."  
  
"Hush, I hope you like it. You need something to wear besides black."  
  
How could he not like it? His first ever Christmas present.  


"And this is an evening for smiles and happiness. I order you to smile."  
  
Only Irons would order someone to smile. But he flashed the most beautiful sincere smile he had.  
  
The object in his pocket was burning against his thigh. It was insignificant, cheap. But it was what he had.  


"I was going to wrap this , but . . . ." A tear welled in his eye.  


He handed the small object to Irons, his large gloved hand engulfing it as he gently lay in Irons' outstretched palm.  
  
It was a small snow globe. Inside was a city street of lights and swirling trees. Tiny people stood on the sidewalk. It was made of plastic but when Irons shook it, the memories flooded back.  


"I haven't seen this since I was a child. I have been there, but I have not seen. Only my Innocent sees this in the cold dark city." Irons sat the globe down and stroked his long dark hair.  
  
His heart felt so large, he thought it would burst. But not from the gift. Not from Irons' kind words. But from the beautifully decorated place card sitting behind his plate:  


  


IAN NOTTINGHAM  
  
my beloved son  


  


It was the one acknowledgment he had always dreamed of.  
  
  
  
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